I suppose it’s stating the obvious when I say that the people in my town are poor. I’ve mentioned before the lack of amenities that we take for granted in the U.S.; things like running water, refrigeration, telephones, etc. And while I have not forgotten the sublime pleasure of a high-pressure hot-water shower, these things become less and less important with the passing days. I’ve reflected often over the past few months that people have an amazing capacity for adaptability. If you had asked me six months ago if I would be comfortable eating goat or washing my clothes in the river, I might have put on a brave face and laughed the question away, but I can guarantee that I had no idea what I would be comfortable with or what exactly I was getting myself into. Most days I still don’t know what I’m doing or how much further I can stretch my flexibility. But I’m finding that I am increasingly comfortable with doing (or eating!) what would have been unfathomable a year ago. The physical hardships and lack of material comforts begin to fall away and I’m left focusing on the personal, the human side of this experience.I don’t like to write negative feelings here for public consumption since my wildly unpredictable emotions change from day to day and nothing is as bad as it seems the next day. But I’m not gonna lie, sometimes this is really hard and really lonely. I definitely have moments where I’m cursing Peru, Peace Corps, Peruvians and myself all in one breath. But after some reflection and the comforting wonders of either chocolate or a long phone chat with a friend, I feel much better and am able to realize that I’m extremely lucky to have this opportunity to get to know another country and another culture. And what I keep coming back to is the incredible generosity of the people here. I can’t imagine what my host family thinks of me or says about me when I’m not around – I must seem so strange to them! But they’ve never treated me with anything less than kindness, welcoming me as another daughter/sister and including me in the numerous family celebrations. In the past few weeks my two nephews have started calling me tía (aunt) to my face. They’ll never know how much that little gestures goes to making me feel loved. Granted it’s not the same as my real family (miss you guys!), but it’s so nice to have some sense of belonging in this strange and foreign land.
Nearly everyone I meet is immediately welcoming, inviting me to a snack or a meal or a beer, or asking me to stop by their house to meet their family, or marry their son/cousin/nephew. The artisans I work with are always giving me little gifts of jewelry or sweets. They want me to know and love their culture as much as they do. I’m always hearing that I’m lucky to live in this part of Peru because the people are so friendly and warm, and while I can’t speak for the rest of the country, I have to agree with this characterization. It’s humbling to hear their stories of hardships and struggles and watch them shrug it off with a laugh or a shake of the head. Peruvians are tough, especially the women. In a male-dominated society, these women have to put up with husbands who treat them like possessions. Machismo is not a myth here. But the women I know are proud and resilient. Like women everywhere they’re just trying to get through the days, provide a better life for their kids and have a few laughs along the way.
We learned in training that Peru has one of the highest proportions of entrepreneurs among developing countries. I was skeptical of this fact at first, but after a few months and a better understanding of the economic context, I’m totally buying it. Take the women in my family, for example, they’re forever selling something or hosting some sort of event to raise a little cash. My host mom, in addition to her work as an Avon saleslady, sells food to tourists (and workers) outside the museum a few days a week. She and my host sister organized a pollada a few weeks back, which is a lunch where everyone pays a few soles for a plate of food. My sister and some friends held a Halloween dance in our town and charged an entrance fee and sold beer at one sole over cost. My cousin recently organized a soccer tournament, charging an entry fee for each team and selling cebiche to all the spectators. It’s just another small example of the basic human desire to have more, to do better. Turns out people aren’t so different after all.I was watching a documentary with my family a few nights ago on the appalling poverty in the slums of Lima, the focus of which was child labor. My family called in the two little boys to make them watch this, telling them how lucky they are that they don’t have to work and get to go to school. It was an eye-opening reminder that my family doesn’t really consider themselves poor – they know they’re better off than millions of their countrymen. I can learn a lot from them about how to appreciate what you do have instead of always looking for more or for better.
I know this isn’t my usual tongue-in-cheek commentary on the oddities of my daily life, but I think it’s important to illuminate some broader themes of what it means to be dropped in the middle of a rural Peruvian town.
I hope you all have a wonerful Thanksgiving with friends and family. I´m grateful to have so many wonderful and supportive people in my life. I miss you all immensely.
